GIFT  OF 

Class   of  1887 


Mk  $ 


R  A  M  O  N  A 
BAZAAR 

8l  EAST  SAN  FERNANDO  ST. 

BET.  SECOND  AND  THIRD 
SAM    JOfflC 


Copyright  1910 
H.  F.  BERNARD 


C_v 


Table  of  Contents 


MISTER  FANGLE:    A    SCHOOL-GIRL'S    ROMANCE.        7 

THE  VACANT  CHAIR.  g 

TO  A  LITTLE  GIRL.  9 

THE  CHILDLESS  LIFE.  10 

WRITTEN  IN    LOTTIE'S    ALBUM  FOR   ANOTHER 

GIRL.  10 

THE  GIRLS  OF  THE  DRYER.  11 

TO  A  GIRL  WHO  STUCK  OUT  HER  TONGUE.  12 

CAMPING.  12 

THE  GIRLS  OF  CALIFORNIA.  13 

BREAKE  NOT  YE  GLASSE.  14 

JUSTICE:  A  REPLY  TO  DR.  WATTS.  15 

THE  MAIDEN'S  BLESSING.  16 

THE  GOLDEN  AGE.  17 

LA  PORTE  FERMEE.  18 

THE  SWEETS  OF  VENGEANCE.  19 

PATIENCE.  20 

THE  MO'NKEY.  21 

THE  KNOCKER.  22 

FROM    LOVE   TO    HATE.  23 

VENGEANCE:     VIRTUE    OR    VICE.  24 

UNION:    AN   EPITAPH.  25 

CURSE  NOT  THE  KING.  25 

MRS.   MANLY   ESQUIRE.  26 

TO  TESSIE.  26 

TO   LOTTIE.  27 

TO    A    HAUGHTY    MAIDEN.  27 

GOOD-BYE,    DEARIE.  28 


MISTER  FANGLE:    A    SCHOOli-GIRL  S    ROMANCE. 


Mary  Sparker,  for  a  starter, 

Went  with  Fangleberg. 
"Mister"  Fangle  used  to  dangle 

On  the  road  with  her. 

"Mister"  Fangle   liked  to  angle 

For  a  pretty  girl ; 
"Mister"  Fangle — Jingle-Jangle — 

Was  the  boy  for  her. 

"Mister"  Fangle  used  to  wrangle 

With  the  boys  in  town : 
They  said  Fangle — Bingle-Bangle — 

Kissed  all  the  girls  around. 

But  the  girls  with  pretty  curls 

Did  saucily  declare 
Of  "Mister"  Fangle — Dingle-Dangle — 

They'd  like  to  see  him  dare. 

And  then,  again,  they  would  explain, 

('Twas  thus  the  story  ran) 
That  "Fang"  was  "sweet",  just  "fit  to  eat," 

But  "perfect  gentleman." 

And  furthermore,  they  would  implore, 

That  even  if  he  did, 
That  he  was  "right"  and  "out  of  sight," 

Though  nothing  but  a  kid. 

But  the  boys,  their  mother's  joys, 
In  such  talk  took  no  truck ; 

They  knew  the  rule,  "Fang"  was  no  fool : 
They  wished  they  had  his  luck. 

Tic  might  be  "sweet"  and  "good"  to  eat" 
(They'd  not  deny  him  praise) 

He  might  be  "right"  and  "out  of  sight," 
But  still  have  winning  ways. 

They  would  admit  he  was  a  kid. 
(They  saw  that  at  a  glance) 


If  girl-  were  \\i-e,  one  would  surmise. 
v!u  v'd  give  :;  man  a  chance. 

Tin-  good  advice,  within  a  trice. 

Went  straight  to  Mary's  head: 

Sin-  shook  the  boys  and  all  their  noise, 
And  married  a  man — instead. 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


(Written  to  Mr-.  A.  M.   Prosser,  for  Dr.  S.  S. 

My  dearest  Mother,  sweet  and  fair. 
I'm  thinking  of  the  vacant   chair. 
That  now  in  Oakland  waits  for  me, 
lint — oh!  alas!  must  empty  he. 
I  am  not  dead  nor  drunk  nor  sick. 
Nor  just  become  :i  benedict: 
\o  sweet-heart  chains  me  to  her  side. 
Nor  claims  my  love,  this  Chrislmastidc. 
lint  patients — listen — one,  two.  three. 
All  sick  to  death,  have  claims  on  me: 
1   dare  not  venture  from  their  side. 
Nor  be  with  thee.  this  Christmastidc. 
Poor   Uriggs  has  got  a  ruptured  skin. 
(I   think  lie  fell  and  hurt   his  shin) 
The  other-  are  too  sick  to  tell. 
\nd  need  my  aid  to  get  them  well. 
So,  Mother  dear,  you  must  be  fair: 
I  cannot  fill  that  vacant  chair. 
My  Spirit,  though,  -hall  linger  near — 
Shall  mingle  with  the  Christmas  cheer — 
And  so  entrance  my  presence,  there. 
Fancy  shall  fill  my  vacant  chair. 


TO  A  LITTLE  GIRL. 


Sweet  Little  Girl,  so  bright  and  fair, 
I  wish  you  adways  little  were : 

For  when  you're  grown, 

And  Childhood's  flown, 
And  Womanhood  shall  dawn, 

I  then  shall  gaze 

On  Beauty's  face, 
Only  to  know  its  scorn. 

But  now  you  stand 

Upon  the  strand 
Of  Childhood's  happy  shore: 

You  soon  shall  reach 

The  Briny  Beach, 
And  slowly  shall  pass  o'er — 

Pass  o'er  the  Flood 

To  Womanhood, 
While  tempests  madly  roar; 

When   Childhood's  dead, 

The  Angel's  fled, 
And  gone  forevermore. 

But  on  that  day, 

I  firmly  pray, 
Your  bark  may  safely  sail, 

And  steer  her  right 

With   Conscience  bright. 
Though  tossed  by  Passion's  gale. 

And  when,  at  last, 

Your  voyage  is  past, 
And  reached  the  Heavenly  shore, 

I  then  shall  meet 

An  Angel  sweet. 
And  love  thee — evermore. 


THE  CHILDLESS  LIFE. 


As  little  buy  and  girl,  we  played  among  the  flowers; 
Light-hearted  a>  the  birds,  \\  e  passed  the  Heeling  hours; 

recked  the  time  would  come,  when  man  and  woman,  we. 
>ad-hearted  and  alone,  should  miss  the  children's  glee; 
When,  tilled  with  rush  of  bus'ness,  its  struggle  and  its  .strife. 
We'd  rind  there  still  was  something  that  was  lacking  in  tun- 
life. 
So  we  settle  down  and  marry,    and    wed — both    man    and 

dame — 

I  Jut,  bye  and  bye,  we  realize  that  married-lit" e  is  tame, 
Kor  tlie  luarth  seems  awful  dreary — with  no  children  play 
ing  'round— 

And  our  hearts  feel — oh!  so  weary! — for  <mr  Ship  of  Life's 
aground. 

we  really  ought  to  marry  to  rear  an  infanc  race, 
Which,  when  we  die,  shall  tarry — 1«»  ably  take  our  plac?— 
And  pass  the  flame  of  life,  sir,  on — on — from  sire  to  son, 
And  finish  nobly — grandly — what  we  ourselves  begun. 
I  Jut  still  we  sit  in  teiror,  and  view  the  hearth  around, 
And  see  the  single  error,  thai  our  married-life  confounds. 
If  we  are  young  and  fearless,  God  bless  our  happy  fate: 
If  we  arc  old  and  cheerless,  we  wring  our  hearts — too  late. 
\  childless  life,  here-after,  shall  speechless  sorrows  bring: 
Life,    without    children's     laughter,   is   a   cheerless — jovles^. 

thing. 

And  he  that  will  not  battle  and  triumph  o'er  his  foes, 
^hall   miss  the  children's  prattle,  and   find  unending  woe.c. 
For  his  shall  be.  full  surely,  a  never-ending  strife: 
His  fate,  a  WIFELESS  SOLITUDE,  and  childless— home 
less— life. 


WRITTEN  IN    LOTTIE'S    ALBUM    FOR    ANOTHER 

GIRL. 


Sin'-   fair  of  f«.rm.  with  a/un    eyes, 

Sweet  is  her  dimpled  smile, 
ll«-r  fare  ifl  matchless — Beauty's  prize — 

I   love  her  all  the  while. 
I   wish   1   wen-  a  man — sometimes  — 

That  I  might  cherish  her. 
I'ut   horrid    Kate,  dear  Lot.  is  mine. 

1   am      another  girl. 


THE  GIRLS  OF  THE  DRYER. 


Dearest  Girls  of  the  Dryer,  I'm  about  to  retire 

To  a  wider  and  worthier  field, 
But  I  know  that  your  sorrow  Will  not  last  till  to-morrow, 

When  I  have  my  departure  revealed. 

But  never  mind,  Girls,  This  is  a  great  world — 
And  a  greater  than  ever  you  thought — 

There  are  fish  in  the  sea  That  I  do  guarantee 
Will  out-rival  the  best  ever  caught. 

Some  girls  wed  for  greed :  'Tis  money  they  need, 

But  if  you  wed  gold,  you1 11  regret  it ; 
For  it  is  a  true  tale :  Anything  that's  for  sale 

Isn't  worthy  the  trouble  to  get  it. 

Take  a  man  that  is  smart,  With  a  big  tender  heart, 
Who  is  willing  to  love  and  adore  you : 

Tie  will  take  you  for  wife,  Make  you  happy  for  life, 
Anct  you'll  live  with  3  FUTURE  before  you. 

If  you  see  a  nice  gent.  And  you  love  him — consent — 
Tf  he  asks  you  to  wed  him,  of  course. 

lie  true  to  your  spouse,  And  build  up  his  house. 
And  you  never  will  have  a  divorce. 

Farewell  for  the  present:  Be  happy  and  pleasant. 
For  I've  loved  one  and  all  from  the  start; 

Hut  of  one  thing  be  sure.  Though  T  may  be  a  boor, 
T  have  your  best  interests  at  heart. 

There's  a  kiss  for  the  pretty  ones.  And  a  wish  for  the  witty 
ones, 

And  a  merry  good  time  for  you  all. 
Oh!  never  endeavor  Our  friendship  to  sever: 

May  it  last  til!  Eternity's  call. 

And  when  we  get  there.  Tn  the  Land  that  is  fair, 
And  we  live  in  the  realms  of  the  Blest, 

Ah  !  then  shall  you  know,  Tf  rightly  T  trow, 

Who  it  was  that  has  loved  vou  the  best. 


12- 
TO  A  GIRL  WHO  STUCK  OUT  HER  TONGUE. 


\I\   dear  little-  Mav.  I've  got  something  to  say 

T.out  the  wrong  that  was  certainly  done  you, 

lint  then  you're  su  pretty  anil  so  charmingly  witty. 
It  would  be  quite  a  sin  for  to  shun  you. 

When  you  stick  out  your  tongue,  that's  so  sweet  and  S 

(Sugar-coated  it  must  he.   I'm  sure) 
I  l<>w  I'd  like  for  to  meet  it,  and  lovingly  greet  it. 

If   I   could  all  that  sweetness  endure. 

And  I  think  to  myself  of  a  slv  kind  of  pelf, 

(For  indeed  the  temptation'^  BO  strong) 

I  low  I'd  like  to  be  near  you,  both  to  love  and  endear  you 
And  sweetly  to  fondle  that  tongue. 

Hut  the  maid  I'm  addressing  may  think  I'm  transgressing. 

In  presuming  her  easy  to  sway. 

And   the  tongue  of  my   stranger    prove    the    Flag    of    Red 
Danger, 

Just  to  bid  me  keep  out  of  the  wav. 

When  men  go  to  war — to  die  by  the  score, 

And  perish  by  fire  and  sword, 
They  display  a  red  rag.  as  a  true  battle  flag — 

To  show  that   there's  danger  abroad. 

So  with  you  'tis,  I  guess.   When  anger  doth  press 

On  your  bosom,  and  cause  it  to  rise, 
Your  wrath  is  so  strong  that  you  stick  out  your  tongue. 

I -ike  a  toad  that  is  catching  the  flies. 


CAMPING. 


When    Pain  and  Sorrow  rend  our  brow^  with  woe. 
\at urr's  relief  in  cooling  fountains  (low. 
And  healing  tears  ab-«»l\-e  our  hearts  of  care— 
All  bitterness  dispel  that  centered  there. 
When    Dull    Monotony    Magnation    bring-. 
And  makes  us  wish  their  w:-s  an  end  of  thing-. 
We  leave  the  town-,  and  xeck  the  cooling  shades 
(  )f  1'ore^t-groves.  their  picturesque  BCCnCS  and  glades 
We  take   Dame   Nature  to  our  hearts  once  more. 
!\ecii\e  her  blessing,  and   thr    Dame  adore. 


•13- 
THE  GIRLS  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


The  land  is  fair,  and  Nature  smiles, 
And  fills  the  fields  with  flowers, 

And  orchard-homes  extend  for  miles — 
With  beauteous  Orange  bowers. 

Cypress  and  Myrtle,  side  by  side, 

Blend  sorrow,  too,  with  pleasure ; 

And  merry  maidens  with  us  ride, 

And  fill  our  hours  of  leisure. 

The  California  Girl  is  sweet 

And   winsome   little   creature ; 

When  her  caressing  form  we  meet, 
Love  smiles  in  every  feature. 

Oh  !  how  can  any  man  observe 

This  fairy  nymph  of  fashion, 

And  all  her  beauteous  charms  discern,. 
And  not  confess  his  passion. 

Tf   he   should   chance   with   loving   glance 
To  clasp  her  close  beside  him. 

And  hold  her  charms  within  his  arms, 
T  would  not  greatly  chide  him. 

I'd  surely  blame  him  twice  as  much, 
If  tamely  he  restrains  him, 

And  stands  aside,  as  if  to  hide 

The  passion  that  detains  him. 

For  surging  blood  within  his  veins 
Is  hard  enough  to  master. 

Who  can  control  the  Ocean's  roll? 
The  lover's  heart  beats  faster. 

The  maiden  loves  the  man  that's  bold, 

Who  "feels  his  soul  grow  tender," 

And  he  who  boldly  claims  her  hand, 
She  holds  a  mild  offender. 

"Rut  if  he  once  allows  to  pass 

A  chance  she's  slyly  given, 


14- 


She  classes  him  at  once  an  ass: 
IK-  never  is  forgiven. 

She  l<»ve>  the  Athlete's  graceful  form, 
With  all  its  dash  and  verve; 

She  hates  the  man  that  hesitates: 

She  loves  the  man   with  "nerve." 

She  loves  the  man  that's  full  of  fun  : 

1 lis  chorus   is  her  laughter ; 
The  pious  youth  and   solemn   truth 
Are  not   what  she  U  aft  T. 

Sunshine  and  laughter,  here,  are  hers: 
She  has  no  u>e  fur  gloom  ; 

Sunshine  and  "things"  make  birdies  sing, 
And  make  the  flowerets  bloom. 

It  turns  her  mind  to  thoughts  sublime, 
Gives  us  the  joy  of  joys ; 

Hence  'tis,  we  find,  in  a  sunny  clime. 
Women   make   i<>v<>us  wives. 


BREAKE  NOT  YE  GLASSE. 


( ia/e   not   upon   ye    Looking-Glasse 
Too  often  nor  too  longe, 

Leste  thy  bleake  Stare 

And  crazie  Airc 

Shoulde  ofl'rcn  yt  some   Wnmgr. 
And  hurte  yl.s   Feelings  he. 

And  thy  Hroke  <  rlaSSC 

Reflecte  an  Asse 

(  1«  >M-1  \-  resembling  thce. 

And  then  thon'lt   sa\c 

In  thy  Dismaye, 
Thy  wounded    1  'ride  t-  -  fr«  ,  . 

"Thou  f.  M»li>lu-  <  ilas^r. 

I   lie  IK  •  Midi  A- 
Thou'rt   making  a    I;acc — at  me." 


15 

JUSTICE:  A  REPLY  TO  DR.  WATTS. 


I  lived  at  school  by  Christian  rule, 

Humbly,  devout  and  meek; 
And  when  my  mates  did  smite  my  face, 

Would  turn  the  other  cheek. 

It  did  not  work,  a  fight  to  shirk ; 

The  boys  all  proved  it,  there, 
That  it  was  right  to  stand  and  fight, 
And  give  your  courage  air. 

For  dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite : 

It  is  their  nature  to ; 
I  came  to  know  that  blow  for  blow 

Was  human  nature,  too. 

My  face  was  raw :  they  broke  my  jaw ; 

They  beat  me  black  and  blue ; 
It  made  me  blink:  I  came  to  think 

The  scriptures  were  not  true. 

I  came  to  doubt:  I  soon  found  out 

No  settled  peace  could  be, 
But  that,  instead,  each  man  was  sped 

To  armed  neutrality. 

For  if  we're  subject  to  abuse. 

And  see  a  chance  to  win. 
Like  blood-hounds,  from  a  leash  turned  loose, 

We  rouse  the  battle's  din. 

If  meekly  we  should  bend  the  knee, 

Or  humbly  bow  the  head, 
We  soon  shall  feel  the  conqueror's  heel 
Upon  our  neck,  instead. 

In  Moses'  age,  that  Godlike  sage 

Did  sternly  speak  this  truth  : 

"Eye  for  an  eye,  doth  Justice  cry, 

And  tooth  shall  pay  for  tooth." 

In  Pity's  eye,  no  lying  sigh 

Shall  urge  me  from  the  right, 


For  I  have  grown  of  moral  tone— 

Iron-clad  with  conscience  fight. 

And  though  my  hand,  like  iron  hand. 

Will  firmly  grasp  a  friend. 
At   Honor's  call,  with  vim  and  gall. 

My  rights   I   will  defend. 

And  if  my  foes  tread  on  my  toes. 

And  mi-  in  folly  rush. 
They'll  find  that  skill  and  vengeance  will 

Conciliate  or  crush. 

In  days  of  old,  a  Goddess  bold 

In  Rome's  great  Forum  stood; 

A  balance  grand  swung  from  her  hand  ; 
Her  sword  was  red  with  blood. 

\nd  thus,  'twas  said,  this  Image  dread 
Was  oft-times  known  to  stand. 

I  )ispensing  Justice  in  her  scales, 

J5ut  Vengeance  from  her  hand. 


THE  MAIDEN'S  BLESSING. 

There  is  a  Maiden,  fond  and  fair. 
With  a/nre  eye-  and  golden  hair. 
Whose  face  is  like  the  starry  sky. 
Illumined  by  her  diamond  eye. 

The  lily  and  the  rose  entwined 
Upon  her  cheek  port  rax- 
That    Love  and    I'urity'-*  enshrined 
I  'pon  that   Milky  \\  a\ . 

Whene'er  1    5<  C  tin  »8C  rub\    lip-. 
And  on  that  beauty  ga/e. 

I   long  to  take  t  \vi  i  little  sip* 

(  )f  hoiu-y    froni   that    vase, 

lint  when  bold  ( 'upid  >tirs  h«-r  breast, 
And  I'ax^i.  ,n  lights  her  C)  C, 

\\  hat  man  could  by  her  OnCt  be  blest 
And  uncontented  die? 


17 

THE  GOLDEN  AGE. 


The  Golden  Age  has  come,  at  last, 

For  which  the  martyrs  prayed  and  died ; 
And  sin  and  misery  are  past: 

We  all  are  saints  and  sanctified. 

No  more,  we  meet  upon  the  street 

The  praying  hypocrite, 
Or  pious  knave,  already  saved 

From  Hell's  grim  torture  pit. 

No,  we  are  told  that  Job  of  old, 

When  tempted,  did  declare, 
He  kne\v  that  his  Redeemer  lived — 

And  fought  with  fell  dispair. 

For  Job  was  brave :  he  knew  the  grave 

Would  sometime  come  to  take  him. 

He  also  knew  that  God  was  true, 

And  never  would  forsake  him. 

He  did  not  say  he  now  was  saved : 
He  did  not  know  for  certain. 

He  only  wished  Eternal  Bliss, 

When  God  should  raise  the  curtain. 

The  pious  fraud  has  changed  his  mind. 

Nor  longer  seeks  to  sever 
The  purse-string  of  the  poor  and  blind : 

The  Devil's  dead  for  ever. 

The  honest  leech  does  science  teach, 
And  quacks  no  longer  advertise 

To  cure  our  ills  with  drugs  and  pills, 

And  poison  with  their  cunning  lies. 

And  now,  'tis  said,  the  women  wed 

For  love — and  love — alone — 
And  seek  for  bliss  in  purest  kiss, 

And  are  like  angels  grown. 

The  lovely  things  are  growing  wings. 
And  soon  will  heavenward  flv : 


18- 


1  hey  long  to  veer  in  heavenly  sphere, 
And   mingle — with   the  sky. 

The  churchmen  pay  their  debts,  they  say, 
And  never  try  to  beat  you ; 

To  God,  not  on  their  neighbors  prey, 

And  never  scheme  to  cheat  you. 

No  women  rash  make  church — a  mash, 
Like  those  of  former  days, 

Nor  do  they  dare  make  House  of  Prayer— 
The  Devil's  market-place. 

\<»  longer  dare  the  wretch  declare, 

While  coward  crowds  concur — 

"Virtue  is  sold  for  yellow  gold; 

Woman  for  praise  will  err." 

With  Conscience  bold,  we  now  are  told, 
The  people  are  heart-whole ; 

Xu  more  are  knaves  the  Devil's  slaves. 
Or  "things  without  a  soul." 

For  Conscience  right  and  honor  bright 
The  mass  and  class  control : 

Truth  conquers  all,  both  great  and  small. 
And  tames  the  narrow  soul. 

And  lovely  Nature  walks  abroad, 

\  beaming  smile  upon  her  face, 

And  every  man  and  maiden  fair 

Respect  Dame  Nature,  full  of  grace. 

Religions  quacks  and  fakirs  dead. 

Ml    error,   sure,   has   passed   away. 

For  Truth.  Immortal  Truth,  instead, 

Has  come  again,  and  come  to  stav. 


LA  PORTE  FERMEE. 


Oneile  est  la  «-auM-  ijui  me  fait  si  tri.ste? 
Rst-ce  rjue  Je  pleure  a  la  mort  du  Christ? 
Non,  non.  Jolle  Amie.  il  e>t  eettr  pensee, 
One  von<-  rie*  le  beau  i*iel — mais  'a  porte  fermee. 


THE  SWEETS  OF  VENGEANCE. 


Nature's  applause  each  man  and  woman  craves: 
To  live  in  triumphs — die  in  honored  graves. 
Each  pulse  responds  to  Nature's  quick'ning  throb : 
None  but  ourselves  can  us  of  pleasure  rob. 
Each  crimson  drop  of  blood  exultant  lives, 
Each  quiv'ring  nerve  ecstatic  pleasure  gives, 
Till  grandest  satisfaction  calms  the  whole, 
And  balmy  sleep  sinks  o'er  the  beatic  soul. 
Tlv  insulting  tongue,  a  moment's  torture  yields, 
!>ut  Nature,  soon,  her  sovereign  will  reveals, 
And  heals  our  wounded  pride,  if  we  obey 
The  good  Dame's  prompting  to  commence  the  fray. 
Stung  by  the  insult,  wounded  by  the  slight, 
We  clench  our  fists,  or  wage  a  wordy  fight; 
With  all  our  force,  the  insulting  foe  defy; 
Determined,  yet,  to  conquer  or  to  die; 
Content  to  fall,  but  happier  still  to  prove 
That  Sweets  of  Vengeance  rival  Sweets  of  Love. 
l>ut  if  a  coward  streak  involves  the  mind, 
Or  we  to  weaker  measures  are  inclined, 
A  cankering  sore  does  in  our  conscience  dwell, 
And  wounded  Pride  soon  changes  Heav'n  to  Hell. 
Wrongs  unredressed,  a  madd'ning  torture  yield. 
Until  the  brain-sore  is  by  Vengeance  healed. 
Our  Mother,  Nature,  tends  us  all  with  care; 
Our  ruptured  skin  doth  faithfully  repair; 
Our  Great  Maternal  Seamstress  daily  mends 
Our  natural  garments,  like  a  faithful  friend ; 
\nd  when  foul  ulcers  take  our  flesh  to  task, 
The  Great  Physician  heals  them  all,  unasked. 
Uut  when  we  foster  ulcers  of  the  mind. 
She  whispers  treatment  of  the  needful  kind, 
And  bids  us  seek  salvation  of  our  cause 
In  mental  hygiene  and  in  moral  laws. 
And  if  we  fail — solicitous  to  our  pain — 
She  plies  us  with  remorse  to  try — again  ; 
And  never  fails  us  in  this  mortal  life. 
Like  loving  mother,  or  as  faithful  wife. 
But  if,  unmindful  of  the  Dame's  decrees. 
We  slight  her  judgment  and  unheed  her  pleas, 
A  horrid  monster,  we  shall  find,  instead. 
That  tortures   us  by  slow  degrees — till  dead. 


Bereft  of  sleep,  we  tortured  shall  remain; 
Stung  by  Remorse,  our  conscience  all  in  pain  ; 
Sore  with  Despair,  and  wounded  in  our  pride; 
Our  reputation  gone,  our  patience  sorely  tried ; 
Our  hopes  all  dead,  and  blasted  in  our  life ; 
Insulted  daily,  and  in  endless  strife; 
Brooding,  we  seek  our  shattered  life  to  link. 
But  deeper  in  despair  we  hourly  sink, 
Until,  at  last,  we  sink  into  the  grave, 
Glad  of  release,  Perdition's  weary  slave, 
And  so  we  die,  a  prey  to  Dread  Remorse. 
Without  a  friend  to  weep  upon  our  corse. 


PATIENCE. 


The  watchful  Will  that  waits  will  win: 
Joy  follows  prayer,  and   sorrow — sin. 
If  God  delay  to  hear  ihy  prayer. 
Fear  not    Dismay,  nor  dread   Despair; 
For  Virtue  is  its  own  reward. 
And  he  that  loves  shall  he  adored. 
The  baited  hook  shall  catch  the  fish, 
And  he  that  waits  shall   win  his  wish. 

Though    earthly    mothers,    tln-ir    children    fail. 
And  fathers  drag  their  sons  to  jail. 
Of  this  be  sure,  though   Heav'n   may  fall. 
That   God   is  good  and   true  to  all. 
With  aching  heart  and  brooding  brain. 
We  oft  of   Providence  complain. 
\nd  strive  with  artful  schemes  to  plan 
Our   Destinv — our  Future  scan. 
Our  best  attempts  are  vile  pretense — 
Th»-   Great    DiMtnier-    Providence. 


-21 
THE  MONKEY. 


A  Monkey,  once,  out  for  a  spree, 

Did  chance  a  glist'ning  pool  to  see, 

And  happ'ning  in  its  depths  to  stare, 

Did  see  another  monkey,  there. 

This  monkey  tried  to  stare  him  down, 

Which  made  our  staring  Monkey  frown. 

The  frown  returned,  our  Monkey  swore 

He  soon  would  even  up  the  score, 

And  in  the  fight  which  next  befell. 

Our  Monkey  sprang  into  the  well, 

And,  in  his  rage  and  deadly  hate, 

Did  try  to  find  his  mirrored  mate. 

Although  one  corpse,  alone,  was  found, 

Both  monkeys  in  that  well  were  drowned. 

Such  monkeys,  ev'ry  day,  we  meet. 

In  human  form  upon  the  street ; 

They  look  into  each  other's  eyes, 

Repeat  the  smile  in  glad  surprise, 

And,  if  perchance,  they  find  a  frown, 

They  try  perforce  to  frown  it  down. 

And  thus  precipitate  a  fight 

That  seldom  sets  the  matter  right. 

In  lust  for  blood  and  greed  we  vie, 

While  plunging  in  the  thickest  fray : 

Forgot  is  ev'ry  friendly  tie 

That  binds  us  to  humanity. 

Alas !  my  friends,  the  smiling  face 

Will  oft  the  frowning  humor  chase, 

And  loyal  hearts,  enforced  by  will. 

Will  bid  the  storms  of  life  be  still. 

And  with  a  sense  of  sin  and  shame 

Will  many  a  fallen  friend  reclaim. 

As  when  the  sun  shines  in  your  eyes. 

And  rifts  the  clouds  in  glad  surprise, 

The  gloom  of  sorrow  on  your  brow 

Transforms  to  smiling  Nature  now, 

And,  like  a  mirror,  ev'ry  face 

Reflects  each  smile  and  winning  grace. 

So  seeks  the  human  heart  to  find 

Some  other  heart,  that's  not  unkind, 

But  true  as  steel — that  seems  to  be 

In  unison  and  sympathy. 


-22 
THE  KNOCKER. 


The  man  who  will  quit,  when  he's  wickedly  hit, 

Or  is  cowed  by  the  first  heavy  blow, 
Is  not  of  the  brand  that  I'd  take  by  the  hand, 

Or  I'd  stake  for  to  stay  with  a  foe. 

He's  a  man  who  will  smile,  both  with  cunning  and  guile, 
And  hand  you  "bull-con"  by  the  peck, 

Rut  when  you  are  gone,  he  will  drop  all  this  'con," 
And  land  you  right  hard  in  the  neck. 

He  will  do  you  up  quick  with  a  knock  that  will  stick, 

In  a  way  that  will  give  you  surprise, 
And  so  slick,  that  you'd  vow,  if  you  chanced  along  now, 

You  could  hardly  believe  your  own  eyes. 

He  won't  stay  in  a  fight  for  a  friend  who  is  "right"; 

If  you  ever  are  knocked  in  a  crowd, 
Or  are  given  an  ill-fame,  he  will  blacken  your  name: 

He's  a  quitter,  who  is  easily  cowed. 

He  will  "boost"  to  your  face,  and  claim  'tis  disgrace 

To  ever  go  back  on  a  friend ; 
I) ut,  just  turn  your  back,  and  he'll  give  you  a  crack. 

That  will  knock  you,  instead  of  defend. 

He  is  full  of  "hot-air,"  and  will  loudly  declare. 

He  can  lick  any  man  to  be  found, 
But  he  licks  with  his  tongue,  for  that's  where  he's  strong: 

When  he  fights,  he  is  whipped  in  a  round. 

He  will  make  love  to  your  wife,  and,  perhaps,  take  your  life 

In  a  cowardly — underhand — way; 
But.  just  show  him  up,  he's  a  cowardly  pup. 

Who  will  not  take  a  chance  in  a  fray. 

He's  a  sneak  who  will  steal,  and  dishonor  reveal : 
He's  a  turn-coat,  your  honor  will  slight; 

You  will  find  him  together  with  "birds  of  a  feather"- 
All  "knockers"  and  "quitters" — on  sight. 

If  you  ever  should  trounce  him,  and  sternly  denounce  him, 

He  will  quit  right  away  on  the  spot; 
So  show  him  no  mercies,  knock  him  hard,  give  him  curses. 

And  hand  it  him  good  red  and  hot. 


_______  o  7 

£  J 

FROM    LOVE   TO    HATE. 


Within  this  Valentine  you'll  find 

A  story  wrought  in  Black  and  Gold, 

That  tells  of  a  love,  once  warm  and  kind, 
But  now  grown  cruel  and  cold. 

Say !     can  you  feel  the  sentiment 

Upon  these  snowy  pages  wrought? 
Each  line  holds  some  philosophy, 

Some  deep  and  heart-felt  thought. 
**$**.*** 

Say,  Dearest  Lu,  what  fools  we  are! 
At — last  we  find  ourselves  at  war. 
In  every  nerve  and  every  vein, 
Hatred  has  come  supreme  to  reign. 
In  spite  of  all  our  Will's  command, 
Hatred  leaps  forth  in  grip  of  hand, 
And  in  our  eyes,  the  glance  of  Hate, 
Has  caused  "dear  friends"  to  separate. 
And  yet  we  swore  that  once  we'd  be 
True  friends  through  all  Eternity, 
And  little  thought  that  Love  would  be 
The  end  of  "friends"  for  you  and  me ; 
And  when  we  came  to  separate, 
That  "Cruel  Love"  would  turn  to  Hate. 
So,  Dearest  Lu,  I  know  not  why 
1   loved  you  once,  and  hate  you  now. 
And  that,  in  spite  of  every  vow, 
I  curse  where  once  I  used  to  sigh. 
Yet,  when  I  speak  to  womankind, 
I  say  that  Lu  is  sweet  and  kind. 
But  when  I  meet  a  man,  I  say, 
"She  cannot  make  a  woman's  play, 
And  have  me  humbly  come  her  way: 

T  will  not  be  her  dog. 
But.  face  to  face,  I'll  tell  her  why 
She  is  degraded  in  my  eye, 
And  not  a  mate  for  you  or  I : 

Her  memory  I'll  jog. 
And  yet  she's  honest,  true  and  good — 
I  want  that  to  be  understood — 
For,  Mr.  Alan,  I  don't  throw  mud." 

But  why  this  change?    I  can't  tell  why. 


24 


Yet  humor  twinkle  in  my  eye. 

If  she  should  make  the  faintest  ?tir, 

I  know  I've  got  the  best  of  her 

She  says  that  she  can  use  a  whip : 

Good  God!  I'd  like  to  see  it  flip! 

For  Hatred  fills  us  through  and  through 

I.  want  to  fight,  and  so  does  Lu. 

Give  me  a  true  and  noble  friend, 

Who  will  my  honest  name  defend 

Also  a  foe,  as  true  as  steel, 

To  call  me  down,  and  make  me  feel. 

And  deal  me  stagg'ring  blow  for  blow. 

And  cause  the  crimson  blood  to  flow. 

But  damn  a  man,  whose  flatt'ring  tongue 

Calls  me  his  friend,  and  does  me  wrong: 

And  like  the  meanest  cur,  we  find, 

Smiles  to  my  face,  and — stabs  behind. 


VENGEANCE:     VIRTUE  OR  VICE. 


Tempt  not   the  wrath  of  Heav'n  tin)  far, 
Whenever  you  revengeful  are; 
Think  that  revenge,  by  Heav'n  unsped, 
Re-coils  upon  tile  Avenger's  head. 
Vengeance — like    Virtue  in    exce— 
Doth  turn  to  Vice  and   I'itterne— . 


UNION:    AN   EPITAPH. 


Here  lie,  beneath  this  marble  slab, 

Two  lovers,  side  by  side. 
They  were  united,  while  they  lived — 

United,  when  they  died. 

They  were  a  loving  couple,  till 

Eclopis  cut  the  thread. 
And  who  shall  say  they  love  not  still. 

Beneath  this  flowery  bed  ? 

For  though  their  hearts  have  ceased  to  beat, 
They,  in  the  violets,  bloom  ; 

And  ashes  that  composed  them  once 
Have  risen  from  the  tomb. 

An  omen,  from  the  grave,  to  tell 

How,  on  Elysium's  shore, 
They  wander  in  some  flowery  dell, 

And  love — to  part  no  more. 


CURSE  NOT  THE  KING. 


Boast  not  of  prowess,  nor  of  deeds  you've  wrought, 

Lest  by  misfortune  thou  be  brought  to  naught. 

Curse  not  the  King,  nor  any  mighty  lord, 

Ev'n  within  thy  closet's  inmost  ward, 

Lest  some  ill-omened  bird  should  thee  betray. 

And  blaze  thy  secrets  in  the  light  of  day; 

And  thou  be  into  some  vile  prison  cast, 

To — there — with  tears,  lament  thy  mournful  past, 

And — there — resolve,  should  blessed  freedom  come, 

NEVER   AGAIN  to  slander  anyone: 

But,  in  the  prison  of  thy  mind, 

To  keep  thy  secrets  from  mankind, 

Eor  many  men  have  lost  the  day 

By  giving  their  own  thoughts  awav. 

So.  in  the  Prison  of  thy  Heart, 

Thy  thoughts  securely  keep. 

Lest  thou  to  others  them  impart. 

And  thou  have  cause  to  weep. 


MRS.   MANLY   ESQUIRE. 


There's  a  dame  at  the  Dryer,  Mrs.  Manly  Esquire, 
Who's  as  clumsy  as  clumsy  can  be, 

For  she  walks  with  a  start,  and  her  limbs  fly  apart 
In  a  way  that  is  painful  to  see. 

And  here,  I  would  state,  it's  her  masculine  gait, 
To  which  I  have  now  just  referred, 

For  it's  part  of  my  tale  that  she  strides  like  a  male. 
And  not  like  the  feminine  herd. 

Her  shoes  are  so  big,  I  believe  that  a  pig 

Could  reside  within  one — quite  at  ease — 

But  in  case  he  should  fail,  I  would  venture  a  sail 
In  the  other  upon  the  high  seas. 

She  is  homely,  I  doubt,  and  a  fool  and  a  lout. 
And  of  brains  she  is  wofully  lacking, 

With  a  mouth  like  a  spout,  or  a  pig's  vicious  snout, 
Or  the  beak  of  a  duck  that  is  quacking. 

Rut  how  can  I  tell  quite  so  much  of  this  belle? 

Have  I  analyzed  her  mental  mixture? 
No,  Gents,  but  T  took  just  one  look  at  her  snoot, 

And  then  got  inspired  by  her  picture. 


TO  TESSIE. 


My  Dearest  Tess  and  sweetest  Fate, 

We've  tried — tried  hard — to  separate. 

We've  promised — both — we  would  forget. 

And  cut  it  out  without  regret: 

Tint  still  thy  figure  haunts  my  eye : 

No  other  form  doth  satisfy. 

Oh !  how  T  long  for  thy  sweet  face 

And  all  thy  sweet  and  queenly  grace. 

Come,  cut  it  out,  let's  both  forget ; 

Let's  cut  it  out — without  regret. 

We  can't  forget,  though  hard  we  try : 

No  other  form  does  satisfy ; 

For  in  this  room  we  pledged  our  troth  : 

Till  Death  shall  come,  we'll  keep  our  oath. 

No  matter,  too,  how  hard  we  try, 

\\V11  ne'er  forget  until  we  die. 


My  dear  little  Lot, 

You  cute  little  Tot, 
You're  sweet  as  a  woman  can  be ; 

That  you  twinkle  your  eye, 

Whenever  I'm  nigh, 
Is  plain  to  a  "man  up  a  tree". 

Then  your  eyes  seem  to  dance 

In  a  mischievous  glance, 
As  if  you  had  reason  to  doubt  me ; 

And  then  you  will  smile 

To  yourself  for  awhile, 
As  though  you  knew  something  about  me. 

You  straighten  your  face, 

The  smile  to  erase, 
If  I  happen  the  snicker  to  spy; 

And  your  eyelid  will  blink 

With  a  sly  little  wink, 
Whenever  I'm  passing  you  by. 

Dearest  Lot,  tell  me  why 

Do  you  twinkle  your  eye? 
And  what  do  you  know  bad  about  me? 

Why  smile?     And  why  wink? 

And  why  do  you  think 
You  have  any  occasion  to  doubt  me? 


TO    A    HAUGHTY    MAIDEN. 


Say,  Maiden  fair,  with  haughty  air, 

WTho  deem  yourself  above  me. 
Did  you  but  know  this  man,  I  trow, 

You  could  not  fail  to  love  me. 
But,  dearest  Dame,  in  Friendship's  name, 

A  moment  longer  tarry — 
Did  you  but  see  this  soul's  decree, 

You  would  not  dare  to  marry. 


-28- 
GOOD-BYE,    DEARIE. 


Good-bye,  Dearie, 
My  heart  is  weary : 

I'm — going — away. 
My  Sweetest  Fairy, 
You're  too  contrary : 

I — can — not — stay. 

For  Love  T  pleaded : 
'Twas  you  I  needed. 

You — told — rn  e — nay. 
My  heart  is  broken, 
And  by  this  token 

I've — gone — away. 

Stone-hearted  Beauty, 
I've  done  my  duty: 

Have — your — own — way. 
I'll  ne'er  forget  thee : 
You  will  regret  me — * 

When — far — away. 


Photomount 

Pamphlet 

Binder 

Gaylord  Bros.,  Inc. 

Makers 
Stockton,  Calif. 

PAT.  JAN.  21,  1908 


YC   14591 


933566 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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